


In All Our Myths We Die

by borrowedphrases



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: All dogs are good dogs, Canon Non-Binary Character, Episode 44: There Is Only One Person Who Can Stop You, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Other, Past Sharing a Body, Stolen Moments, There are two wolves inside you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/pseuds/borrowedphrases
Summary: They're not a missing piece of him, they're the piece that never left.
Relationships: Fuwa Isamu/Naki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	In All Our Myths We Die

**Author's Note:**

> Look there should have been a scene with the Wolfship between the Orthrus fight and the next time we see Fuwa. If the canon won't serve me then I will feed my damn self.

The pavement is rough beneath his scraped palm, and Fuwa does every mental acrobatic he's aware of to narrow his focus down to that single physical sensation. There's the heat from the day radiating up from the asphalt, the grit of fine gravel pressing into bruised muscle. This is easy, this is simple. It's something familiar and steadying, and grounding. If he keeps his focus on something simple and familiar then maybe he can ignore the slowly rolling waves nauseating dread and crippling anxiety.

It's proving more difficult than usual. When he blinks his nausea spikes in intensity and his vision blurs for the briefest moment. He may actually have a mild concussion. Wouldn't be the first time, and it's not like he can let it slow him down.

There's a soft "tch" above him, just barely a sound instead of a breath. If Fuwa hadn't been so focussed on hearing past the ringing in his ears he may not have been able to hear it at all. He shakes his head, then groans and regrets choosing to move his head at all. Ever. In his entire life.

Surprisingly steadying hands grip at his sides just beneath his arms, lifting him to a sitting position and then drawing one of his arms out to rest over a narrow set of shoulders. Together, he and Naki manage to struggle his uncooperative feet off the pavement and onto the nearby grass, and then it's just a few wobbly steps until Naki is easing him down to rest with his back against a small tree.

"You need maintenance." Naki says, then there's more shuffling, some rustling of clothes - Fuwa can't be fucked to turn his head and clarify the finer details - as Naki curls the fold of their wide sleeve, then gently press the inside of the cuff against Fuwa's cheek. It stings, but Fuwa can't find the energy to bother wincing. He's already exhausted, but he has to keep going. He's going to need to burn every last shred of strength and energy he has inside him before this is done, however little he has left.

"I'm sorry." Fuwa murmurs, turning his head - it feels heavy, and for a moment there's a sound almost like shifting sand crackling inside his ears - and trying to catch Naki's gaze. He doesn't know what else to say, what else he possibly _could_ say after failing so spectacularly.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Naki presses their cuff against Fuwa's stinging cheek twice more, then draws their hand back again. "You were brave. You fought well. Your opponent was stronger. There's no point feeling shame over your failure."

There's shifting again, and the soft crinkling of paper as Naki busies their fingers with something that's obscured by the long depths of their sleeves . Naki hasn't met Fuwa's eyes, they seem almost like they're avoiding them. Fuwa's pretty sure that's just making him feel worse. "Hey. Look at me."

"Be quiet and sit still." Naki's fingers grip tight to Fuwa's chin so they can position and hold Fuwa's face exactly where they wish it to be. Fuwa can't find a reason to argue with them, so he lets himself be maneuvered around.

Naki's face is the picture of concentration as they lean in close and examine Fuwa's cheek: clear narrowed eyes, mouth a thin steady line, and for the briefest moment there's a hint of the tip of a soft pink tongue stuck out from between pursed lips. Seeing Naki like this is still weird for Fuwa: as something separate, something viewed from a distance. They're close enough that Fuwa can feel the warmth of Naki's mechanical processes radiating from their synthetic skin, not really all that different from how the warmth of a flesh and blood person would feel being this close.

And yet it doesn't feel like they're close _enough_ , somehow. Fuwa can't explain it, he won't even begin to try, not after he's utterly failed to figure out this feeling for himself alone. He doesn't feel like he isn't whole, like some part of his person is missing, not really. Yet there's still a sense of _absence_ , like a passive kind of loneliness. Strangely, the feeling only gets stronger when Naki is near, as if the closer they are the farther away Naki is.

Naki lifts a bandage and presses it firmly over what must be a cut on Fuwa's cheek, lithe fingers sliding over it to make sure its adhesive is smooth and secure.

"You keep bandages on you?" Fuwa asks, one eyebrow raising curiously, the motion pulling the bandage taut over his skin.

Naki makes a sour face, mouth frowning and the bridge of their nose scrunching up just a little, as they quickly pull their fingers away from Fuwa's cheek. "A habit I picked up from you constantly damaging our body. Yours. Your body."

Fuwa's pretty sure Humagears can't blush, like how they can't really bleed - at least not most models - so it must be the concussion that's making it look like the apples of Naki's cheeks have gone a gentle shade of pink. Fuwa can't stand it. He reaches for one of Naki's retreating hands, fingering circling their thin wrist. His grip is firm, but not tight - Naki can easily pull away if they want to, and Fuwa will drop his grip at the first indication of such a motion.

He wants to say he's sorry again, for dozens of things he's not even sure he should be sorry for - but is, and will probably continue to be no matter what Naki says - and a few things he should probably want to apologies for, but won't. He wants to tell Naki he misses them, wants to ask if Naki misses him too. It's weird, and confusing, and way too much for his tenderized brain and overwhelmed mind to handle.

Maybe if they both survive the day, if they're both still here tomorrow, maybe then he'll find all the words he needs. Maybe, if they do live to see tomorrow, they won't even need words.

Fuwa feels something soften in his chest when Naki finally meets his eyes. They give each other a mirrored little smile, lopsided and tired. Then Fuwa tugs. Then Naki goes. Then they're settled together with their back against the tree. Naki isn't quite nestled in against him, although they are pressed flush to his side, and Fuwa isn't quite holding them close to him, although his arm is wrapped around their shoulders.

They're going to have to move in a minute - though maybe they can risk lingering for two - so they can keep trying to stop a war. But if Fuwa- If Naki- If their _them_ can just have this moment - this pointless, quiet moment with the missing piece of their sum - then maybe they can both remember how to feel like a whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to the (very limited) [Orthrus mythology](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orthrus#In_art).


End file.
